“Do you know why I asked to meet with you?”
“I imagine it has to do with my proposal.”
“You are correct,” Dr. Hackney pauses as their drink orders are taken. “Hailey, your goals are a bit extravagant, but not entirely impossible. I'm interested in the adaptability of your plan to see if it can be used in other war-torn countries, post-conflict. But first, there needs to be research and a pilot study.”
Hailey nods in understanding, very well aware of this. She's not reinventing the wheel, more like analyzing current developmental programs and trying to create a strategy that's more widely applicable and efficient.
“I'm also concerned about how your focus will change once you continue to pursue your law-degree, especially at your current program.”
Hailey weighs her words for a moment. Considering this woman enjoys verbally lacerating grown men for breakfast, Hailey's errs on the side of caution. “I've been permitted a certain amount of flexibility in my academic focus in order to achieve my goal, granted I remain within the bounds and timeline of the program.”
Dr. Hackney smiles in a way that indicates she knows something Hailey does not. Unnerved, she leans forward in her seat. “Unless you know something I do not.”
Their wine is delivered, and orders are taken. Dr. Hackney takes a delicate sip of her wine, eyeing Hailey over the rim of her glass. She sets it down carefully, making Hailey stew.
“If there's one thing I've learned, it's that nothing in life is certain. Your program is up for accreditation this year. Just in case, I advise you get all your ducks lined up, should a situation arise.”
“What do you mean?”
Dr. Hackney turns her head slightly, narrowing her eyes, indicating Hailey will receive nothing else in reply. Instead, she changes topics, steering the conversation away from Hailey's increasing concern.
“Before you leave for Uganda, make sure you meet with one of my researchers; they'll ensure you document everything properly and that your records are kept correctly.”
“I just got authorization yesterday.”
Dr. Hackney dismisses this with a wave of her hand. “You'll need to make a good impression right off the bat because you'll be going back soon enough and need those people to help get your program some traction.”
“Going back?” Hailey’s eyebrows dart upward in dismay.
“What, you don't actually think a winter holiday will suffice, do you?” She smiles coldly. “Get your head out of the clouds, darling. You need to decide if this is truly something you want to do. There will be many sacrifices. Many. But if you commit and continue to produce excellent results, then I can open doors for you.”
Hailey's inherent wariness makes her grow suspicious. “Why me?”
“Because, once upon a time, I was sitting in your seat and was given the same opportunity. I see a lot of potential in you and want to see where you can take this.”
Hailey sips her wine, ignoring the compliment. She learned long ago from the media circuit that there is always an ulterior motive. They continue eating, conversation bouncing around in a haphazard fashion.
They finish the meal with a digestif and a subtle ultimatum: “I've given you much to consider, but you need to decide soon whether you want to pursue this project long term because results take many years to materialize. It's not something you can jump into or do half-heartedly.”
“I understand,” Hailey replies as she rises from the table.
“Do you?” Dr. Hackney’s tone is unimpressed at best, and Hailey knows she'll be analyzing every word for days to come.
“I'm not impetuous, Dr. Hackney. When I choose to do something, I commit one hundred percent.”
She smiles in that way that makes Hailey feel like just another applicant, nothing special. Which, all things considered, she really isn’t.
Just before they separate for the evening, Hailey turns around and states her case because her inherent Type A will not let her leave this meeting feeling so unsettled:
“I know that I am not the one that makes the difference. I get that.” Dr. Hackney raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow as Hailey continues. “I want to help empower and equip these people with the tools to affect their own change. I will be an advocate... Someone that can ensure their hard work isn't for nothing.”
Dr. Hackney looks down at her clutch, smoothing her hand over the expensive leather, then back to Hailey with a demure smile. “I look forward to hearing from you, Hailey Morgan.”
Hailey nods, unsure of what more to say. Dr. Hackney ducks her head and turns to the elevators. Hailey returns to her flat to think about not just the remains of her winter vacation, but her five-year plan.
After a lengthy discussion with her mother, Hailey calls Dr. Hackney the following evening, agreeing to her deal.
By mid-December, Jude has moved from breakfast to having dinners with Cynthia. They're typically quick, squeezed in between shifts, but dinners all the same. She's very lively and laughs in such a way that causes Jude to want to keep making it happen. Despite being a redhead, she's slow to anger and quick to forgive, something Jude finds beneficial when he's feeling moody.
Though the meals have been more friendly than anything else, both are well aware that their mutual attraction is undeniable and he certainly wants to progress further. His family has always been pretty open to meeting the women he dates. Hell, they've got an open-door policy with most of Stansworth, but he hesitates to bring her around until after the holidays. Cynthia is a bit skittish in that regard, and he doesn't want to frighten her with what could be an overwhelming family get together.
Instead, he invites her to the annual holiday party at the fire station. She agrees, then informs him she'll be returning to the States for the week of Christmas but will be back to work the New Year's shift. Nothing like ringing in the New Year with a bunch of drunk homeless people in the E.R.
During a routine call with her parents, she learns a disappointing yet unsurprising piece of news from her mother: Jude is seeing someone. Of course, he is. Because that’s what Jude does - he jumps into relationships headfirst whenever Hailey gets too close.
“A doctor, from what I understand,” her mother states it in that smooth way that carries news like a tornado, swift and devastating.
“Oh,” Hailey keeps her voice even, surprising herself. “How long has he been seeing her?”
“Not too long, a few weeks from what Jeanette said.” There’s a break, subtle and ambivalent. “It's strange though; she's very... mature. Not exactly the type he's gone for in the past.”
Hailey bites her lip so hard she thinks it splits. “Well, maybe he finally took my advice and is settling down with someone who is good for him.”
“Good point. Maybe...”
The conversation continues for a few more minutes, but all Hailey can focus on is a picture she taped on her wall from when Perry and Jude visited. Perry is walking towards the photographer while Jude is in the background, catching Hailey as she swan-dives off a ledge, his arms open and gaze fixed, her eyes shut and full of trust, knowing he’ll keep her safe.
Until he doesn’t.
Until she feels the same way she felt when she was eight and sixteen and twenty-one and twenty-four. Until she's lying on her cluttered floor pressing her palms against her eyes, whispering how stupid she is to the darkness. Until she spits out the bitter taste of iron into the porcelain sink, watching the blood swirl down the drain with tears and cold water.
The line sounds hollow when Hailey tells Jude that she's not coming home until January. She hears a scraping sound on the other end of the line like maybe he's sitting outside in a chair on his parent's deck. When he responds, his voice sounds resigned.
“Okay. Be safe out there. I'll...” He clears his throat and sighs. “I'll make sure the studio doesn't burn down while you're gone.”
“Save me a dance.” She whispers, chewing on the inside of her lip.
“I'll save the first and the
last and all the ones in between.”
She wants to say all the words that she's never been brave enough to summon in the past. But then she glances at her bedroom wall, at the last remaining photo, the one of her swan-diving toward Jude. That leap isn't guaranteed to have a soft landing, and she's not sure she's strong enough to risk it right now.
“Bye, Ju.”
“Bye, Hailey.”
When the line goes dead, Jude pulls the phone away and tucks it into his pocket. He remains outside in the freezing cold for several minutes, thinking about everything and nothing. The door sliding open and a wave of heat reminds him where he is. Slender arms reach around his chest as a chin tucks itself over his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” Cynthia whispers. They're at the Christmas party at his Captain's lovely home. So far, she's been charming and friendly, and he couldn't have asked for a better date.
“Yeah. My uh... my friend Hailey has decided to delay her return.” He's explained ballroom dancing to Cynthia, but she hasn't yet fully grasped what he and Hailey are, what they do. So far, Cynthia doesn't appear to be clingy or jealous, then again, she hasn't met Hailey either. That'll be the true litmus test: how she reacts when Hailey is back in his life.
“Speaking from personal experience, I think it'll be as rough on her as it is on her family.” Cynthia pulls away and grabs his hand, pulling him with her. “But, she made her choice, right?”
Cynthia's words hit him in such a way that makes his chest tighten. “Yeah, yeah, she did.” Jude grips her hand, letting her tug him into the warmth and holiday cheer.
After boxing up and sending home almost everything she's accrued while in London, Hailey loads up a rucksack and carryon with essential items and reads up on what to expect when she gets to Uganda. Camping has never been her thing, and she knows she's in for a rude awakening once she arrives.
She's pretty sure if she were going without Marta, she'd mess her pants on the plane. Fortunately, Marta has visited several times to see her brother and helps Hailey mentally prepare for the journey.
They spend their last night celebrating with their flatmates and friends, a colorful and boisterous crew that make their remaining hours even more memorable. In the midst of all the mayhem and champagne drinking, Hailey feels a tug on her hand and turns to see John pulling her away from the crowd.
She follows him down the hall toward his room, where he opens the door to reveal a surprisingly neat space - bed made, clothes stored in an orderly fashion, shoes in line. He still hasn't said anything yet, just turned to the bare desk against the far wall, searching through a drawer.
There's only one picture in his room, and she takes a step to get a closer look. About ten years old, it’s a group of sixty or so men in uniform with the inscription A Squadron, 22 Special Air Service and their motto over their emblem, “Who Dares Wins.” Hailey scans the picture, spotting John off to the side, the insignia of a captain on his collar.
“That was my best mate, right there,” John points at a man standing just behind him. “We grew up together, fought together. But we didn't die together.”
Hailey turns to him, surprised at this unexpected admission. John is still staring at the picture, mind in another time and another place. He blinks hard and shakes his head, then holds out an item for her.
“A knife?” Hailey reaches out and grabs the black switchblade. “I'm not sure I'm -”
“Here, give me that before you cut off your finger.” He presses the button and flicks his wrist, showing her how to manipulate the blade and close it safely. She takes the knife and mimics his gestures, slower, but just as precise.
“Quick learner, I forgot.” He cracks a small smile. “Listen up, yeah? Just because you'll be surrounded by a bunch of do-gooder tree huggers, doesn't mean you're safe. Always be on the lookout; always be aware of your surroundings. If you feel like you're in danger, go look for Henrique or one of those blokes he's got working with him. He might look wiry, but the guy can fight.”
Hailey nods, feeling like she's talking to one of her brothers. She glances up at him to see that he has one more object in his hand, but he hasn't handed it over yet.
“Now, I know you've got brothers, but this isn't child's play. If it's just you and one other person, go for their eyes, kick them in the groin, then stab them in the chest or their stomach with the knife, yeah?”
She hopes her eyes aren't gigantic, but the cold sweat she's broken out into makes her shiver a bit.
“Aw, don't turn into a coward now. You'll be fine. But I need to know you'll be safe.” He rolls his eyes at her and puts his always present unlit cigarette in his mouth. “If there's more than one man, you turn and run as fast as your twinkle toes will take you. Got that?”
“Yeah,” she swallows hard. Running would definitely be her mode of action. “What's that in your hand?”
“A flashlight,” it's compact but surprisingly hefty. “Always keep a light on you. Switch it to the right for the red lens. Harder to pick up from far away.”
She holds the two objects in her hands, oddly perplexed by his gifts. As she looks up at him, he seems uncomfortable and in need of more alcohol. Surprising both of them, she reaches out and pulls him in for a hug, whispering her thanks.
“I know I've been rough on you,” John says as he braces his chin on the top of her head. “But you remind me of my baby sister, so very much. Sometimes I forget myself when I'm with you. She used to make me so mad sometimes.”
Hailey pulls away, glad to finally know why he was so hard on her. “Sisters have a tendency of doing that like no one else does.”
“Yeah well -” he shakes his head, stopping himself before going too far. “Let's get back out there. They probably think we're shagging.”
“Gross, John,” Hailey growls as she opens the door, mortified. “Not after you just said I remind you of your sister. Too soon.”
Hailey stores his gifts in a safe place, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that she will keep the items on her at all times.
The following morning, Hailey and Marta board a plane bound for Kampala, Uganda, instead of the safe and frozen north. She’s looking at three weeks in Uganda and no Christmas with her friends or family.
When she settles in her seat, she pushes down all ambivalence of starting another chapter in her life. This time, it'll be entirely without Jude. She refuses to feel guilty about it, though; he made his intentions perfectly clear by jumping into yet another relationship. She's his friend and ballroom dance partner. Nothing more.
Surprisingly, she finds this very liberating.
Chapter Eleven
On day two, Hailey travels from Kampala with Marta and Henrique up to the village where they will be centralized. The nearest town, Gulu, was formerly a hub for displaced persons but has now become more of a sprawling region of huts and brick homes in various stages of decay and development.
“Hot yet?” Henrique jokes from the driver’s seat of his busted old jeep. It is packed to the brim with their luggage and a month’s worth of dried goods and supplies. Beside him in the passenger seat sits an excited young German Shepherd named Harbuu, “It’s Swahili for warrior. But the foreigners here call him Dee. My petite bebe is going to be a warrior. Aren’t you?”
Marta rolls her eyes at Hailey. “He’s had this puppy for about four months. Talks about her non-stop. ‘Oh, look! Dee walked two feet. Oh look, Dee barked at a piece of paper.’ I apologize in advance for any stories you will be forced to hear.”
Hailey watches as the siblings continue to discuss the evening’s plans once they arrive at the village. As the dirt and rock roads are in a poor state, the ride is bumpy, painful, and slow going, but Hailey was prepared for this.
She’s also prepared for the heat. That doesn’t make it any easier; she chides herself as another bead of sweat slides down her spine. She moves her head closer to the window for more of the muggy breeze and gets waves of fine red dust instead that seems to permeate everything. It’s
no worse than summer at home, except she just left the damp frigid environs of Christmastime and the contrast is glaring.
Her mind wanders during their journey, contemplating the events that brought this entire non-profit into creation. Joseph Kony, leader of the Lord’s Resistance Army, held a reign of terror in Northern Uganda for twenty-year using guerrilla warfare tactics, abducting children to use as soldiers and sex slaves. He and his forces migrated to countries such as the Central African Republic, the Congo, and South Sudan. Now, Uganda is reaching slowly towards stabilization, while havoc rages on around it.
Once they arrive at ‘headquarters,’ Henrique takes them to the rudimentary dorm-like room Marta and Hailey will be sharing and invites them to lunch once they get situated. It’s bare, with squeaky small twin beds and the all-important mosquito nets. They drop their bags, decide they need a broom and some rags to get rid of some unwanted vermin/dead insects then head downstairs for introductions.
Hailey and Marta meet many of the essential staff from the non-profit, as well as full-time Ugandans who keep the ground operations running for the program. For a late lunch, everyone comes together to enjoy a communal meal of beans, rice, and mashed plantains in a nutty sauce.
“This is our common-area,” Henrique states as he motions around to a large space with two long tables. “Meals, meetings, and a place to hang out after a long day. While the dorm rooms are wired for electricity fed by solar panels, we try to conserve as much as possible and limit it to this area and the kitchen in off-hours.”
“What is it that you do, exactly?” Hailey asks, uncertain.
“I’m the project manager with the non-profit for Northern Uganda. I oversee the development of recovery communities throughout the region, as well as evaluate existing schools for the possibility of the renovation as many have either been destroyed or looted. We’ve completed construction on a total of eleven schools, and currently, we have… two schools and one community center that is underway in different parts of the region.”
The Starting Line: Friends To Lovers Page 13